


Let the Waves Come Up and Take Me Down: After

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Series: I Will Wait for You [7]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Bathing, Brainwashing, Dehumanization, Dom Phil Coulson, Fawning, Fear, Flashbacks, Framework, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Nipple Play, PTSD, Sub Clint Barton, extreme trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Clint’s POV of their first night back together.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: I Will Wait for You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580395
Comments: 29
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to check the tags.
> 
> Not knowing how to think  
> I scream aloud, begin to sink  
> My legs and arms are broken down  
> With envy for the solid ground  
> I'm reaching for the life within me  
> How can one man stop his ending?  
> I thought of just your face  
> Relaxed, and floated into space  
> — Blue October: Into the Ocean

It doesn’t know how long they ride, just that it ends far too soon. It could have stayed pressed against Master’s back until the Framework turned to dust. It starts to come Up from the gentle subspace it had been lulled into when Master slows them to a stop and turns off the motorcycle. 

They stay that way for a bit and the slut tightens its grip on Master, wanting to hold on as long as possible. 

“You can let go now, sweetheart.”

“If it pleases you, Master,” the slut mumbles, hugging him one last time before letting go, willing to risk his wrath at the impudence. 

It misses the warmth of his body immediately. Master was right about the cold; the jacket is barely longer than its loincloth and its legs have started to go numb. 

Master dismounts and holds out his hand to the slut, “Come on, off you go.”

“Yes, Master,” the slut says, but its legs aren’t cooperating. It takes Master's hand but instead of being able to climb down it falls forward on the bike with a small cry.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa; I’ve got you,” Master says, holding it steady, “You’re okay.”

“Your worthless slut is sorry, Master.”

Master’s hands tighten painfully and it cries out, no longer protected by subspace.

“Shit! Sorry,” Master says as his touch becomes gentle once more. 

“Sorry, Master?” It asks, as it pushes itself back up with its arms. 

“I shouldn’t have hurt you; I’m sorry.”

“But Master, your slut deserves it,” even if it didn’t (it always does) it’s Master’s right to hurt it whenever he wants. 

“We are going to have several long conversations when we get upstairs.”

The slut shivers at the dark tone of Master’s voice. It knew this was coming. It has been a bad slut and it’s ready to take whatever punishment or Punishment Master desires.

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you think you can get down now?”

Then slut really isn’t sure. Its legs have started to tingle painfully but it isn’t sure they’ll support its weight, “If it pleases you, Master.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Your worthless slut is sorry, Master,” it flinches at the disapproval coming off of Master and falters, “It… it wants to obey, Master but its legs…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I should have realized,” Master‘s voice is kind, which is confusing. He seems to change rapidly from angry to calm, leaving the slut to scramble after his mood, “Let me help you. I’m sorry, this will probably hurt a bit.”

Master rubs the slut’s legs and, though it does hurt, it also feels the warmth of Master’s hands and it closes its eyes, the pleasure far outweighing the pain.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s wonderful, Master,” the slut says, almost purring. 

It pushes Master’s indulgence as long as it can, before reluctantly saying, “Thank you, Master. Your slut should be able to get down now.”

“Here, use my hand. Be careful and go slow. I’m right here if you need something to grab on to.”

“Yes, Master.”

The slut takes Master's hand and starts to get off the bike but it misjudges it’s balance and despite reaching for Master it tumbles to the ground. It swallows a whimper as the huge plug moves inside it and it prays that the cuts on its back haven’t opened up and gotten any of its mess on Master’s jacket. The slut cringes but Master is kind, so very kind, and doesn’t kick it, not even once.

“Thank you, Master,” the slut says, uncurling itself and kissing Master’s boot.

“Don’t—,” Master says, sounding angry again, “Stop that.”

“Yes, Master,” it says, sitting up to kneel in Supplication. It’s heels dig into the welts on its ass and as it’s knees spread wide it shivers, Master’s warm leather jacket parts around its legs and its sheer loincloth, draped over the loose silver chain hanging low on its hips, is no protection against the icy cold. The soft posture collar reminds it to keep its head up and forward even as it keeps its eyes appropriately downcast. 

Moving hurts; everything hurts, but it’s distracted from the pain by the novelty of seeing its arms covered in the black leather; the jacket’s sleeves are just long enough that they cover up its wrists where they lay palm up on its thighs and it’s strange not seeing the solid black tattoos that band its wrists. 

“Your slut is sorry for displeasing you, Master. Please, tell it how it may serve you?”

Master takes a deep breath and then sighs loudly, “Can you stand?”

“Yes, Master; it will be a good slut, it will obey,” it hopes. 

Master growls under his breath but doesn’t reprimand it for its boldness. 

When it struggles too long Master crouches down, it flinches but instead of striking it Master gruffly says, “Here, arms around my neck.”

Before it understands Master’s intent, he’s scooping the slut up in his arms and cradling it to his chest. It whispers in confusion, “Master?”

“Shhh, let me carry you.”

“Yes, Master,” the slut says as it closes its eyes and holds on tightly, dizzy from the roller coaster of Master’s emotions, “Thank you, Master.” 

~~~

Master sets it down carefully on the bed, “Wait here.”

It slides to the floor and assumes Supplication, moaning when sitting on its heels reminds it of the heavy plug. It had been the good kind of painful while it was swimming in that magical subspace but now that it’s back Up to the place where subspace merely eddies around it, the pain is a nagging discomfort.

It notices now that it’s face and head are throbbing in time with its back, ass, and various wounds left by the guards. It hopes Master will not demand too much service out of it tonight, the last thing it wants to do is disappoint him by showing him exactly how worthless his new slut is. 

Master comes back and makes a pained noise; the slut must have gone into the wrong position. Supplication is what it’s old Master had always meant by Wait, unless he told it otherwise. It moves to Offering, lifting its palms up to its Master.

“Do you think you could sit on the bed for me?”

“Yes, Master,” it gets up and settles gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Take this. Drink all of it but don’t rush,” Master hands it a bottle of water as if it were nothing.

It gasps in shock and, expecting the water to be taken away at any minute, says, “But Master, it hasn’t earned it.”

There’s that shift in Master’s mood. It seems like the stupid slut can’t open its dirty hole without upsetting Master. 

“Drink it. And when you’re done, here are a couple more,” he says, setting them on the nightstand, “Like I said, don’t rush; pace yourself. Do you understand?”

It really doesn’t but what else can it say, “If it pleases you, Master.”

Master makes a small sound of disapproval but doesn’t reprimand it. He holds out a couple of pills, “I also want you to take a couple of these for the pain.”

“If it pleases you, Master,” it says, unable to keep the fear out of its voice; it’s former Master would occasionally give it something to amplify its pain without pushing it into subspace and it already hurts so much. 

“The sooner you take them, the sooner they’ll start working.”

It nods miserably and slowly opens the water. As punishments go, it’s getting off lightly. Though likely this isn’t its real punishment but instead merely for Master’s amusement. 

It takes a sip of the water and is unable to keep from whimpering at how cool and delicious it is. Part of it wants to gulp it down before Master has time to change his mind; another part wants to savor it and, since Master said not to rush, it gives in to its decadent nature, holding each mouthful for a few seconds, humming in pleasure, keeping its head tilted back so there’s no pressure on its throat from its collar as it swallows. 

It’s finished nearly half the bottle, it’s misery momentarily forgotten, when it remembers the pills. It takes them from Master, swallowing them down with a little of the precious water. 

“I know you’re exhausted, sweetheart, but I’d like to clean you up a bit before you go to sleep.”

The slut shudders. It’s not sure it can handle the hose right now without passing out, “If it pleases you, Master.”

Master’s sigh sounds frustrated but his tone is mild, “You’ll feel better, I promise.”

The slut tries to hide its doubt but isn't entirely sure it succeeds. Master runs his hand through the slut’s hair but doesn’t grab it. It’s not painful. Just weird. But not as weird as what follows. Master cups the slut’s chin, not in the tight grip digging into the bruise along its jaw it braces itself for but more of a caress and then he kisses the slut’s forehead, his beard tickling it. The slut blushes and chokes out a shocked, “Master!”

“Not okay?” 

The slut is flustered and doesn’t know how to respond. It tries, “Your worthless slut does not deserve to be touched by your mouth, Master, but it is here to please you.”

“No!” Master snarls and the slut just barely keeps from jerking away, squeezing the cool water bottle, holding on to it like a lifeline, “That’s it. That’s the last time I want to hear you call yourself that.”

“Oh, Master, please, please let it be your worthless slut? It will be good. It will. Please Master?” 

“No. That’s enough. If you call yourself a worthless slut one more time…” Master trails off leaving the threat vague.

Oh, God. What has it done? Master specifically said it doesn’t deserve to be his slut and then it couldn’t help itself. It tries, “Your cum hole is sorry, Master,” praying it’s enough of a downgrade, that Master won’t make it meat. 

“What the fuck, Clint!”

This time it does jerk back, the half empty bottle falling to the floor from nerveless fingers, and it curls in on itself as it tries to protect itself from the blow it knows is coming. 

It knows it’s being bad, right after saying it would be good; that it should Offer itself for Master’s Punishment, to be his meat to be thrown to his doms, but the pain and fear of the Forbidden word combines with the terror of being meat; in its panic the worthless slut tries to crawl away across the bed, breaking all the rules, “Oh, no, Master, please no! It will be good! It will be good. It will take its Punishment, it deserves it, but please, please Master, please don’t make it meat?”

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry, baby; I’m sorry. You are good. You are. I’m not going to Punish you.” 

“Really, Master?” It stops moving, a wave of pleasure at Master’s praise edging it back Down and it dares to question Master, waiting for a slap that never comes, “You’re not going to Punish your— it? It isn’t meat?”

Master sighs. He sits down on the side of the bed next to it and says, “Come here, please? I really need to hold you,” and it hurries to comply, both because it is an order it’s more than happy to obey and because it is frightened by the strain in Master’s voice. It inches cautiously up next to Master and when Master holds out his arm it tucks itself into the space Master has provided it. Master wraps his arm around its waist; his hand is warm even through the thick leather of his coat. Master pulls it close and says, “I’m not going to punish you, but it pains me to hear you call yourself worthless, or slut, or… things like that.”

“It would never hurt you, Master,” it says, leaning into him tentatively, it’s reckless hysteria passing.

“I know you wouldn’t. But you don’t like your name—”

‘ _Sluts don’t have names.’_

“Master—”

“Shush, let me finish.”

“Your sl— Sorry, Master.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, sweetheart, I want you to listen.”

“Yes, Master.”

It can feel Master watching it for a second before he continues, “As I was saying, I don’t like what you’ve been calling yourself. So we’re going to need something we can both agree on. Now, I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this,” Master says, stroking it’s hip painlessly, “And I don’t want you to panic, you’re not in trouble, okay?”

“Yes, Master,” it says, confused.

“But if you don’t like ‘Clint’,” the slut— it whimpers and shakes, burying its eyes in Master’s neck, careful not to bump its broken nose or split lip and risk getting its slut juice on Master. Master allows it and even pulls it closer, “Shhh, you’re okay. It’s okay. Does Hawkeye—”

Master stops when it cries out and it’s grip on Master tightens, it wants to try to flee again but knows that will upset Master so it tries to get closer to his comforting warmth instead. Master rubs its uninjured hip and murmurs comforting noises, “Shhh, shh. I’m sorry, I had to be sure. I don't suppose you want to tell me any other words that hurt?”

“Only the Forbidden ones, Master. It promises, it won’t think them. It’s a good sl- it will be good.”

Master sighs and says, “You are good.”

Oh, the words feels so nice even though it hasn’t earned them; it knows it hasn’t been a good slut, “But Master—”

“No ‘buts’,” Master says with an uncompromising tone. 

It bites its lip to keep from protesting and tastes blood, having reopened the split; it sucks on its lip, which hurts but keeps it from getting any on Master, “If it pleases you, Master.”

“We’ll come back to your Forbidden words another time,” he says, “Rather than try to walk that minefield, why don’t you tell me what you want me to call you?”

“Yours, Master,” it answers without thinking.

Master lets out a soft laugh, “For as long as you want. But you need some sort of a name.”

“But Master, sluts don’t have names,” it says carefully. 

“I honestly don’t have the strength to get into that with you tonight. I tell you what, why don’t you think about it while I draw the bath.”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

Master sighs as he gets up. He picks up the water bottle it had recklessly dropped and it lets out a sigh of relief to see none of it had spilled. To the slut’s surprise Master doesn’t take it away but instead hands it to the slut— to it, “I suppose that will have to be good enough.”

It had thought Master was going to clean it first, but it makes sense that Master’s bath would take priority. It’s better this way, being able to serve Master first, as the slut— it. Stupid slut. It’s lost the privilege of calling itself Master’s slut— it isn’t sure it will be able to attend Master after the hose. 

It tries to figure out what Master wants to call it. If it could choose anything, really choose, it would be Master’s pet. One of the guests had brought her pet into the Framework and it had been given a soft cushion to kneel on and had been dressed in layers and layers of sheer silk. Maybe… Maybe as Master’s pet it could earn such things as well. 

Though, more likely, Master wants to make it expose its deepest desires, the better to hurt it. After all being hurt is all it is good for and it’s barely good for that. Its old Master used to ask it all sorts of questions about what it liked or didn’t like, what it hoped for and what it feared, all the better to hurt it. 

It realizes it has no choice; it will have to reveal how much it wants to be Master’s pet; if it doesn’t then when Master looks at the logs he will know anyway and then, instead of just being Punished for being greedy, it will be Punished for trying to conceal something from Master which would be so much worse. 

It finishes the water and, even as worried as it is about the upcoming conversation with Master, the— it continues to take its time and enjoy it while it lasts. It sets the empty bottle on the nightstand but can’t bring itself to open a second one. 

Instead it sits up in Offering, it’s leash laying across its palms as it waits for its Master to return.


	2. Chapter 2

When Master comes out of the bathroom his sleeves have been pushed up and he is drying his hands and arms with the fluffiest towel it has ever seen, “Well, have you had a chance to think of what you’d like me to call you?” 

Master pauses in the doorway for a moment before coming over and silently taking the leash. He pets its hair and it leans into the soothing touch. It leaves its hands in place, Offering itself. 

“If… if it pleases you Master, you could… you could call it,” it can barely get the words out, ducking its head as much as it can with the collar, “Your pet?”

Master’s hand in its hair tightens and it holds its breath, waiting for Master to shake it for its impertinence. 

“Pet?” Master asks and there are no clues in his voice, no way to tell how angry he is, “Are you sure there isn’t something better?”

It lets its teeth worry it’s sore lip, knowing it deserves the added pain, “Of course, Master,” it knew it had be ridiculous to ask for even before it thought it, “Could it… would you allow it to be your fuck toy, Master?”

Master’s grip becomes even tighter; it whimpers and Master relaxes his hand, going back to the tender stroking. “Pet it is.”

“Oh, thank you, Master!” It’s stunned that Master is taking such a ridiculous notion seriously and even as it wonders what trap it has missed in such an honor, it bends forward into Obeisance, pressing its face to the bed and laying its arms out, palms up, there’s just enough play on the leash for the movement to tug on its collar. 

“You don’t have to—,” Master cuts himself off, and runs his hand through the slut’s— the pet’s hair again; it feels so good the pet hums quietly before remembering its place and going silent, “You like that, don’t you? When I pet your hair?”

“Oh, yes, Master. Very much. Would you like your pet to beg for your touch, Master?”

“No!” Master barks out, his hand stilling. The pet‘s shoulder’s curl in involuntarily. Stupid worthless slut, it can’t seem to stop upsetting Master. No. Stupid, stupid. Not slut, pet. It must remember it’s Master’s pet for now. 

“It is sorry, Master, your pet doesn’t mean to be greedy,” especially not after Master allowing it to be his pet. 

“Oh, baby, it isn’t anything you did,” Master says, resuming his gentle strokes, “I need you to know that I may get angry, probably very angry sometimes, but that it isn’t at you; okay?”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

“No, no I’m not going to budge on this one. No ‘if it pleases’. Just because I get angry at something you say, doesn’t mean I’m angry with you. Repeat it.”

“Yes Master. If you get angry at something your pet says, it doesn’t mean you're angry with your pet.”

Master sighs, “It’s a start. Let's get you cleaned up.”

The pet gasps and sits up, terrified that it has gotten some of its filth on the bed; even though it’s body aches everywhere it doesn’t hurt, it had forgotten how dirty it is. Thankfully the pale cream and white striped duvet is unblemished.

It slides off the bed to its hands and knees but instead of leading the pet to the bathroom Master brushes his fingers through its hair the way it’s growing to love and knows it shouldn’t get used to. 

“Stand up, please. I’d prefer it if you walked.”

“Yes, Master,” the sl— pet rises, keeping the lines of its body as supple as possible, putting more effort into it than it has in months, maybe years.

There’s another beat while Master watches it. It waits in Standing position; it can’t quite make out Master’s expression, though it’s tall enough that it can keep its eyes down and still see his mouth, hidden in his beard, and it doesn’t know Master’s moods well enough yet to know if he’s pleased with the— the pet or not. 

“This way, pet,” Master says, his tone revealing nothing, and the pet follows, three steps behind and to the left as is proper, unable to keep from smiling. At some point it will need to be hurt, or even Punished, and it will be all the more painful for having disappointed such a generous Master. For now it will let itself enjoy being Master’s pet for as long as Master lets it. 

It Stands by the tub and waits to see if Master wants the pet to attend him or if he only wants the pet to wait until he is done and ready to hose it down. 

“Let’s take this off, okay?” Master asks, taking his jacket by the lapels and pulling it off its shoulders and down its arms. It can’t help the small sound of loss it makes as Master takes the jacket and hangs it on the back of the bathroom door anymore than it can keep from staring at it longingly. It has never been allowed that much cloth before, and it’s weight has been a constant reminder of how lucky it was, and that’s before accounting for the fact that it’s _Master’s_ jacket. It knows it hadn’t actually earned it, but it had been so, so good to pretend. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you can have it back later.”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Your pet hopes to earn it someday, Master.”

It waits for Master to call it out on its foolishness, but he just hums to himself and then does the strangest thing and crouches next to it. Master is in its line of sight and the pet has to quickly avert its gaze to avoid looking Master in his eyes without permission. 

Master removes its loincloth and then runs its chain through his fingers. He drops it saying, “I don’t see a clasp, how does this come off?

“It… it doesn’t, Master? Please… please let it keep its chain, Master?” It feels tears prick at its eyes, of course it had been greedy, dreaming of a day where it could earn something as fantastic as Master’s jacket when it hasn’t even earned even a chain from its new Master, much less a cloth to hang from it. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s yours. Here, you’ll feel a lot better once we get you cleaned up.”

“Yes, Master,” there goes its chance for bathing Master first and getting a little more time to steel itself against being sprayed down, “Master?”

“What is it, Pet?”

“Your pet is sorry, Master, it doesn’t see a hose?”

“A ho— Who do you think the bath is for?”

“For you, Master?”

“No, I thought you understood, sweetheart, this is for you.”

“But Master, sluts d—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Angry Master is back. 

“Yes, Master.”

“This is your bath.”

_“Come here, slut.”_

_“Yes, Master.”_

_Master pulls on the leash and the worthless slut falls into the tub with Master._

_Master takes it by the collar and slowly pushes its head underwater. It struggles for a second but remembers its place and relaxes until it can’t hold its breath anymore. It tries to be good, it tries, but when the water enters its lungs it starts to struggle. Master pulls it up and it coughs up the soapy water._

_“We’ll try that again. What do you say, slut.”_

_“Thank you for your Gift, Master.”_

_It never is able to stop struggling completely but eventually Master takes mercy on it and holds it underwater until it stops thrashing._

_The worthless slut is strapped to the Chair naked, having failed Master. It’s alone and so it does not try to hold back the tears as it cries silently to itself._

That makes sense. Its new Master probably wants to reset it, to remove any trace of its old Master’s marks. Drowning isn’t the best of Gifts but it could be much, much worse and this will allow it to show Master how good it has become at drowning. It sinks into Obeisance, “Thank you for your Gift, Master.”

“It’s n— Fine. We’ll add that to the list. Let me get this,” Master grabs its collar and the pet tries to go with the motion, expecting Master to pull it up into the tub and push its head into the clear water, but Master pulls it short, “What are you doing?”

“Accepting your Gift, Master?”

“By what? Diving in head first?”

“It… Master? Do you not wish to drown your pet?”

Master gets very angry at the pet questioning him and he clenches the pet's collar so tightly that it can’t help but choke slightly, then Master releases the collar as though it’s on fire. 

Master Orders, “ _Don’t move_ ,” in a deadly calm Voice that sweeps through it, not enough to Push it Down but even without going under it feels Master’s Control wrap around it, binding the pet to his Will more securely than any chains or pain ever could. 

Master walks out of the bathroom and the pet hears a crash. 

The pet shakes and wants to hunch over but it’s Master’s Command gives it the strength to keep the exact position Master had left it in. 

When Master comes back he doesn’t seem as upset. He says, “I’m sorry, Pet. I needed a second.”

“Is… is everything okay Master?”

“No, Pet. Nothing’s okay. Nothing is remotely okay.”

“Your pet is sorry it displeases you, Master.”

“I’m not— Do you remember what I said about me getting angry?”

“Yes, Master, ‘If you get angry at something your pet says, it doesn’t mean you're angry with your pet’.”

“That’s exactly right. Very good.”

“Oh, thank you, Master,” the pet shivers at the praise. It risks asking, “Does that mean you don’t want to give your pet your Gift, Master?”

Master flinches, “No. No ‘Gifts’ like that, ever again.”

“But Master—” 

“No,” Master says, “No ‘but Master’. Let's get you into the tub while it’s still warm.”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

Master makes a frustrated sound and then takes its collar and shifts it around its neck. Master whispers, “Of fucking course. Wait here, I need to get the scissors.”

“Master?” It asks nervously.

“It’s locked; I’m going to have to cut it off.”

“Oh, Master, Please? Please let it stay collared?”

Master sighs, and then says, “No. But I won’t cut it off.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“I’m still removing it while you bathe. It’s not good for your neck,” Master opens one of his pockets and pulls out a thin leather case and reveals a set of lock picks—

_“Open it!”_

_“We said no gifts,” Coulson laughs, “You’re the one that made me promise not to make a thing out of it.”_

_“And if you didn’t get me anything I’ll keep this for myself but I’m not the only rule breaker here and we both know it.”_

_Coulson shrugs, his hazel blue eyes twinkling in the candle light, “You caught me. Yours is at home.”_

_Coulson unties the bow, opens the box, and pulls out a thin leather case. He opens the case and holds up one of the lock picks, “They’re beautiful, Clint.”_

_Embarrassed, Clint says, “You said your old tension wrench was starting to go and I thought…” he trails off with a shrug._

_“They’re perfect,” Coulson says, gazing into his eyes. He takes Clint’s hand and kisses his knuckles, “You’re perfect.”_

It fights the urge to shiver at thinking the Forbidden words. Why does this keep happening? It had gone months without any glitches but since the last reset they’ve started coming more and more frequently.

Maybe they’re a side effect of its new Master taking over the Framework?

And why does the man in the memory remind him of Master?

It doesn’t have time to worry about it, Master’s already making quick work on the collar’s lock and before it knows it the collar is gone. 

It gasps. It feels like it’s falling. Or maybe flying. 

For all that it’s had to earn every inch of cloth it has ever been given, this is the first time that it can think of where it actually _feels_ naked. 

“Okay?” Master asks, stoking its throat.

“Oh, yes, Master,” it can feel itself getting hard, between the security of Master’s Voice, the vulnerability of being stripped of its clothing and collar, Master’s constant soft touches and kindness, and its multitude of aches and pains it can’t control itself. It can feel the edges of subspace trying to pull it Under. 

“Let me help you; up and in. This may sting a bit.”

“Yes, Master,” the pet says, taking Master’s offered hand as it stands and steps into the tub. Master’s other hand guides it until it’s sitting in the almost too hot water. The water against its various open cuts and scratches stings but it’s so mild that it only feels good and it can feel some of the tension it always carries start to ease. 

It can’t ever remember feeling this good and the pet feels itself start to Slip. The pet begs, knowing it isn’t worthy but unable to help itself, “Oh, please Master, may it go Down? It promises not to go too far? Please, Master?”

Master silent for so long that it apologizes, “Your pet is sorry for being such a greedy little s— for being greedy, Master.”

“No. No, don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” Master doesn’t sound angry, but there’s something in his posture that warns pet that Master is upset, even though he caresses the left side of its face and says, “Go Down as far as you want; I’ll be here to take care of you.”

It nuzzles Masters hand carefully with the left, and relatively clean, side of its face, “Thank you, Master. Thank you, thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

The pet lets go and Sinks, the small stinging points light up with pleasure and it feels the water lap around it as it also physically sinks until it’s head is on the back of the tub and it closes its eyes, “Oh, Master, thank you.”

It soaks in all the pleasure it can, knowing that Master might yank it back Up at any second. It feels like it’s melting, becoming one with the water, guided by the arousal filling its cock and the constellation of pleasure/pain across its body, the places on its back and ass where the cane broke it’s skin; the scratches up and down its body, punctuated by the scattered bite marks and bruises. It feels like it’s ass is all one bruise, and the same with its back on to either side of its spine. The throbbing in its head and throat ease, as does the darker pain from the right side of its face and it’s broken nose; even the heavy weight of the plug in its ass becomes more bearable. 

Master pets its hair and murmurs, “There you go. That’s better. I’m going to start washing you; I want you to try and stay as relaxed as possible, okay?”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master,” the pet slurs. Like this it really can think of it as Master’s pet and it feels grateful tears welling up and it blinks them away. 

Master takes a soft cloth and soaks it in the water. He starts with the pet’s face, lightly dabbing away at its injuries. It’s an easy pain and it hums with contentment, “Thank you, Master. Feels good, Master.”

Part of it wants to figure out what the overall plan is, how this will hurt it later, but it pushes the thoughts out of its mind. Worrying about what might come never helps, the pain will come whether it worries or not and it knows it’s better to just accept whatever is happening in the moment, even when —especially when— it’s something as strange and wonderful as this. 

“That’s good, Pet. I want you to feel good. Because you are good. Good, and brave, and so very strong.”

It doesn’t understand but it doesn’t need to. It just needs to be. The praise is like a velvet glove stroking its skin and it gasps, it’s hips lifting involuntarily, causing its ass to squeeze around the plug pain/pleasure/pain, “Master,” it begs, not knowing what for. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, baby,” Master says, moving on to its shoulders, then arms, then chest. 

It sucks in a breath when Master washes over its sensitive nipples and it thrusts its hips again, “Oh, Master! Please? More please?”

“Like this, baby?” Master asks, rubbing both its nipples, one with the soft cloth and the other with his fingers.

“Yes, Master, thank you, Master.”

Master keeps playing with its nipples, tugging one nipple ring with steady fingers and rubbing the other nipple with the cloth and then switching which gets tugged and which gets washed. It’s not long before it’s begging, “Please, Master, please may your slut cum?”

Master abruptly stops and sits back. It knew better than to ask, it knows it’s done nothing to earn the privilege of an orgasm. 

Then it panics, realizing what it said, _‘Oh, no_ ,’ it sits up, coming to its knees in the bath, forcing its way Up out of subspace, away from that place where everything had felt so right until it made such a stupid mistake. Master will have to punish it now, “Please, Master, your pet is sorry, it didn’t mean to call itself slut, it’s sorry; please, Master, please punish your disobedient pet.”

“Oh, come here, pet,” Master folds the pet into his arms, indifferent to the water that soaks his shirt, “It will come with time. I’m sure a lot of things are going to take some getting used to.”

“Thank you, Master,” it makes itself ask, “Please, may it have its punishment now instead of later?”

“No!” It cringes but Master’s quicksilver mood swings back right away and he’s only angry for a second, “No, sweetheart. No punishment. I don’t expect you to be perfect,” ( _‘You’re perfect_ ’) Master’s words echo the memory and it feels so good it wants to cry, “It’s enough that you’re trying. You can promise me that, right? That you’ll try?”

“Yes, of course, Master! It will always try.”

“Good boy,” Master says and the wave of pleasure is so intense it can’t see straight.

“Oh, oh Master, thank you!”

Master hugs it tight and then let’s go, easing it back into the tub, “Let’s finish getting you clean. I don’t know about you but I’m about ready for bed.”

“Yes, Master,” it wants to rush ahead to Master’s before bed blowjob but tries to relax back down into the bath for Master. The urgent need to cum has eased and it is going to try to be strong and wait until it can beg for its own release with the taste of its Master on its tongue.

Master is methodical with the rest of the bath, efficient but tender as he dabs the blood away from the bite marks and scratches and considerate with the bruises. He’s more gentle with the pet’s still erect cock than it expects, neither ignoring it nor abusing it, simply washing it and moving on to its legs. 

It sucks in a sharp gasp and jumps a little when he gets to the bite mark on its inner thigh, “Sorry, Master.”

“Shh, I’m the one who’s sorry, Pet. I’ll try to be more careful.”

Master finishes with its legs then has it sit up so he can cup water over its hair, carefully not letting any water get into its eyes. 

When he has it flip over he asks the pet to rest it’s arms on a rolled up towel he sets at the end of the tub. 

It seems impossible but Master actually is even more mindful of its back and ass and it finds itself drifting Down again. Before it has to mention something to Master it’s being urged up to its feet. Master pulls the plug and then helps it out of the tub.

Master wraps it in one of those impossibly fluffy towels, it’s even softer than it looks, so quickly it doesn’t have time to feel the cool air against its wet skin. Master pats it dry and then leads it into the bedroom. 

“Now that we’ve warmed you up I want to ice your bruises and bandage up some of the deeper cuts. The aftercare kit should have some ointment in it, too. Sit here and drink some more water.”

“Yes, Master,” it settles on the bed wondering what an aftercare kit is and how much the ointment will hurt. It’s former Master liked to rub all sorts of painful things into its wounds. It isn’t looking forward to it but it will be nice to actually earn all of the special treatment it is getting from Master. It does hope that the ointments will have finished their effects before the pills kick in. It is starting to wonder if the pills are duds, as it keeps feeling better and better instead of worse. It will have to tell Master, soon. 

It dutifully uncaps a second water bottle and the experience is as novel as the first, not having Master hold it or drinking it from a bowl on the floor, and it’s still cool and just as refreshing as before. It assumes Master’s order to take its time still applies and so it limits itself to slow and steady sips. 

It keeps reaching up to touch it’s naked throat and it feels a thrill run down its body from its fingertips to its nipples and down to its semi hard cock; its asshole tightens around the plug and it moans softly, it’s cock getting harder. 

It startles, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes and it nearly drops the water bottle. The pet quickly sets it on the nightstand and slides off the bed, leaving the towels behind as it falls to its knees and Offers itself to Master, “Your pet is sorry for touching itself without your permission, Master. Please punish your disobedient pet?” 

Master comes into the room and sets a large canvas bag on the floor next to it, “No. Back on the bed, pet, head on the pillows please; make yourself comfortable.” 

Master sounds upset, so why isn’t he punishing the pet? 

Maybe that is part of the way Master punishes his things? Maybe he is waiting for all of the smaller infractions to add up and then give it a more intricate Punishment?

Though if he wanted to kill the pet, it isn’t sure why he wouldn’t just give the pet his Gift. Master said no more Gifts but he can’t really mean it. The pet thinks maybe this is Master’s way of keeping the pet from becoming complacent. By withholding resets the pet will worry more about when it’s rightful Punishment will come, as well as how Master will finally Punish it. It will have to try harder than ever to please Master and to be ready for his judgment whenever it may come, instead of only after the pet has been bad. 

It’s the only thing that makes any sense. 

“Yes, Master,” it spreads out the towel so that as little of its skin as possible touches the bed and lies down carefully, it’s hands loose at its side and feet slightly spread, remaining as pliable as possible for any adjustments Master wants to make. 

It appears it’s done a good enough job as Master says, “Here, hold this in place.”

Master sets a large ice pack wrapped in a soft hand towel on the right side of its face, laying it from forehead to chin and mostly covering its nose, leaving enough of the left side of its mouth free that it’s able to breathe easily, “Be careful, don’t put too much pressure on it, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Between the warm bath and the ice the pet feels it’s headache ease and it sighs, “Thank you, Master.”

“You’re welcome. This is going to be cold, too,” Master warns, before laying a couple more ice packs across the bite marks on its shoulder, chest, hip, and free arm. 

“Let me know if this hurts too much,” he says. 

The pet has no concept of what Master is asking for but it knows the right response, though it’s slightly muffled by the ice pack, “Yes, Master.”

Master’s fingers are warm and slightly slick when they touch the bite on the pet’s inner thigh. The ointment he talked about doesn’t hurt at all, it feels good. Almost too good as it numbs the wound, “Oh, Master,” it moans and just barely keeps from going Under, “Please Master, your pet is sorry, it’s slipping Down.”

“Then go, baby. Let go and let me take care of you.”

“Yes, Master,” and it obeys, though it knows it's being greedy beyond measure and wonders when Master will realize how worthless— No, Master doesn’t like that word. When will he realize how needy the pet is and when he will decide it is not worth his time?

It doesn’t go to that Deep place that Master had sent it when he Claimed his pet, but it’s easy to go Down to where everything feels good and its skin tingles with pleasure. The various aches and pains are sweet and it wants more, always more. 

Master finishes bandaging it’s thigh and then places another ice pack there, keeping it well away from the pet’s cock, the tip now slick with precum. It should come back Up, Under like this it is likely to be careless and get some of its slut juice on Master or one of his other things. 

Master takes his time rubbing the ointment into the pet’s other bites and bruises and says, “I think the one on your thigh is the only one that needs to be bandaged, the rest of these are shallow enough that I don’t think they need it. Let’s look at your face.”

Master takes the ice pack from its face and lays its arm next to its side, then sets the ice pack on top of the bite marks on that bicep. 

“The swelling looks like it's all the way down. I don’t think your nose needs to be set but it does need to be bandaged. Your lip should be fine on its own, as long as you’re careful, and a couple butterflies should keep your forehead from scarring.”

“Thank you, Master,” it says dreamily from the comfort of subspace. It makes sense that Master would want to minimize any permanent marks from before he Claimed the pet since he isn’t resetting it. The pet is anything but a blank canvas, every little bit will help.

Even so, it can’t help but hope that maybe someday Master will let it reset free of any marks but Master’s own. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Okay, roll over,” Master says once he has finished with the pet’s face and he’s removed all of the ice packs, “I’ll be right back.”

“M… Master?”

“What is it Pet?”

“May it have a cum rag to keep its slut juice from getting on your towel, Master?”

Oh, no. It shouldn’t have asked; Master is angry again and no matter what Master says it knows it is a bad pet for making Master unhappy. 

“The towel will be fine. Please, sweetheart, just roll over and be careful not to hurt yourself.”

“Yes, Master,” it would never hurt itself without permission. 

The pet lies with the left side of its face on the pillow and it’s arms over its head with its wrists crossed, hoping to appease Master with its sign of submission. It starts to drift in the place between sleep and subspace, so tired that only the thought of disappointing Master further keeps it from falling completely asleep.

“This will be cold again,” Master says and starts placing ice packs across the cane marks. 

It feels so good that the pet shivers and hums, “Thank you, Master.”

“These don’t look too bad. Your skin’s only broken in a couple places. I’m going to start at the top and work my way down. And remember, baby, tell me if it’s too much.”

“Yes, Master,” the pet slurs. 

Master slowly rubs the ointment into the pet’s back, gently massaging it into each of the marks. The pet loses all sense of time and of where it is and it starts moaning softly, pushing up into each stroke of Master’s hands while pressing its cock down into the towel. 

Master chuckles, “So, not too bad then?”

“Oh, Master, it feels amazing. Your w— pet,” it catches itself before it can say ‘worthless’ out loud, hopefully before Master notices the slip, “Doesn’t deserve such pleasure.”

“I think maybe you should let me worry about what you do or don’t deserve for now.”

The pet tenses up, realizing all of the times it questioned Master about that very thing, “Your pet is sorry Master. It never mean to imply—”

“Shh, shh. You’re okay Pet. I’m not angry with you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Master continues to rub the ointment into its back and at one point his ministrations release a particularly stubborn knot and it moans, “Oh, thank you, Master,” and it’s unable to prevent itself from rolling its hips, the friction against its cock causes it to moan again. 

As Master lays the cool ice packs against the massage warmed skin of its back, the contrast draws out another long, low moan. 

“Feels good?”

“Oh yes, Master.”

“Good,” he says and starts rubbing the ointment into the marks on its ass. 

The word reverberates through its skin and it moves more firmly from falling asleep to Falling deeper into subspace and it pushes its ass back into Master’s hands and says, “Oh, Master.”

“It feels good to me too.”

“Oh! Oh Master, please,” it begs. 

“You’re so good baby, I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel, I want—” Master breaks off abruptly; he had just started to push the sluts ass up and apart, and the slut realizes what’s upset Master just before he asks, “Pet?”

“Yes, Master,” it answers in a small voice. 

“What is this?” He asks, lifting one hand to touch the base of the plug. 

Even though Master is gentle it sends a shock through the pet that has it gasping for air, “It’s your plug, Master?” 

And then it realizes that no, it’s not Master’s plug, it belonged to its former Master and after Master had gone through all the work of rinsing off the touch of its former Master it hadn’t thought to let him know about it. 

Stupid, stupid pet.

“Your pet is sorry, Master. It should have told you that it’s former Master sealed his cum inside your pet’s fuck hole.”

Master hand squeezes his pet’s ass brutally hard and it’s unable to keep from crying out in pain.

Master lets go as though burnt and then he rubs away the pain, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But Master, that’s the only thing your pet is good for.”

Master makes a wounded noise, “No, Pet. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“If… if it pleases you, Master,” it says, unable to hide its doubt. 

Master takes away the ice packs and strokes a warm hand down the middle of its back, “Is it okay if I remove the plug, Pet?”

“Yes, please Master,” it begs, it whimpering as Master grabs the heavy plug and it moves inside the pet. Master’s other hand rubs slow, calming circles on the small of its back. 

It tentatively asks, “Master?”

“What is it, Pet?” Master asks, letting go of the plug.

“May… may it wash away the cum, when you’re done? Please, Master?”

“Oh, baby, of course. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I will always take care of you.”

“Thank you, Master,” then, knowing it shouldn’t but unable to stop itself, the pet asks, “Master?” 

“Yes, Pet?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to reset it?”

“What do you mean, Pet?” Master asks, the hand on its back stilling. Something in his tone warms the pet to proceed with caution. 

“If— you said no more Gifts but, if it would please you Master, your pet could kill itself for you?”

Master is deadly silent, and the pet knows it’s overstepped its boundaries.

“ ** _Clinton Francis Barton_** ,” the pet cries out and shrinks away, the Forbidden words rings through it like a bell with the power of Master’s Voice, “ ** _You will not kill yourself_**. _”_

“Yes! Yes, Master!” It’s lost and the only thing that exists is Master’s Voice.

 _“_ ** _You will not kill yourself_**. **_Say it_** _,_ ** _Pet_** _._ ”

“Your pet will not kill itself, Master,” it will suffer anything for Master.

Master grasps the back of its neck. He crouches down next to the bed and Orders, “ ** _Look_** **_at_** **_me_** _,_ ** _Clint_**.”

It cries out but Obeys, Master’s Voice overriding it’s terror at both the Forbidden word and the command. It sees Master’s eyes for the first time, they’re blue with flecks of gold, coldly serious and somehow familiar, “Yes, Master.”

“ ** _You will not kill yourself_**. **_Say_** **_it_** **_again_** ,” he Orders. 

The pet has never been this Deep while still being aware before. The pet stares into Master’s eyes and swears with every fiber of its being, “It will not kill itself. It promises, Master. It’s death is yours and yours alone.”

Master squeezes its neck and Says, “ ** _Again_**. **_YOU_** **_WILL_** **_NOT_** **_KILL_** **_YOURSELF_**.”

Master’s Voice is it’s reality; it’s body exists only as a vessel for its Master’s will, “Your pet will not kill itself, Master.”

“ ** _AG—_** ,” Master chokes midword and stops, but the pet can’t be concerned it’s Down Down Down and everything fades away except it’s Master’s Voice, the last thing it’s aware of is Master Saying, “ ** _YOU_** **_ARE_** **_MINE_**.”

And it thinks, ‘ _Yours. Yours. Yours.’_ And then it just exists for a timeless time as Master’s and nothing else and it’s perfect.

The pet’s ears are ringing as it slowly comes back to itself. It notices that Master is standing a few feet away, his back to it, “Master?”

His voice is hoarse as he says, “I’m not sorry. Maybe I should be. And maybe you’ll hate me for this but I can’t be sorry. I can’t— I can’t lose you again.”

“Master?” It asks again, confused. It tries to reassure Master, “It's yours Master; it belongs to you.”

Master whispers something Pet doesn’t think it’s meant to hear; something that it chills it to the bone, sucking away all the warmth it had gained, “For now.”

It knew that this had all been too good to be true. Master has no intention of keeping it and what had it expected really? It wonders if Master is planning on selling it when he’s done with it or just throwing it away as meat for anyone to use, “M… Master?”

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” then he steps away, “And then we can get that thing out of you.”

The pet can hear water running and some beeping and it tries to prepare itself for what is coming. It’s not just that getting the plug out will hurt so much but the shame it feels and having another dom’s cum inside it and Master having to clean its dirty hole. No wonder Master is already planning on getting rid of it. 

It really is a worthless filthy slut, no matter what Master says. 


	5. Chapter 5

Master comes back and sets a bowl of steaming water on the nightstand and then leans over and kisses the pet on its cheek. It happens so quickly it doesn’t have time to react, its, “Wh…?” Following Master as he stands up. 

Master runs his fingers through its hair and says, “It's going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise. We’re going to get through this together.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Up on your knees, please; spread your legs a little for me.”

The pet gets into position, drawing its knees in and then spreading its legs. It holds in a moan as it feels its plugged asshole get revealed. It leaves its wrists crossed above its head but turns them so that its palms are up, doing everything it can to show its submission to its Master. 

Master rests one hand on its ass and then starts to pull out the plug. It tries to be good, it _tries_ , but it can’t stop the whine that builds in its throat as the plug starts to stretch its entrance.

“Jesus. Hold on a second. I didn’t realize how big it was.”

There’s some movement and Master gets something out of the bag at the side of the bed. There’s a clicking noise and then a few seconds later Master rubs slick warm fingers around the plug. It feels so good the pet sighs, “Oh, Master.”

“This may hurt a bit. I want you to relax as much as possible. If you want I can Talk you Down?”

“Oh Master, yes please?”

Master Says, “ _Down, Pet. Down as far as you want.”_

It’s amazing, like sinking into a placid lake, the perfect stillness enveloping it and pulling it Down, Down, Down. The physical melts away, it’s only connection to reality is Master’s warm hands where they contact its skin, sending ripples of pleasure through the slut where they touch, “Thank you, Master,” it moans. 

The fingers rubbing slickly around the plug in its cum hole push in slightly around the plug and pluck fine strings of pain/pleasure/pain and the slut moans again.

Then there’s twisting and pulling and it hurts, it hurts so good and then bad, too much pain/pleasure/pain/pain/pain and against its will the slut cries out, “Aah!”

And then it’s over and it’s Up, it’s ass on fire and Master has it cradled in his lap. He’s rocking the slut— no bad slut— bad pet. Not slut, pet. 

Master kisses the top of its head, murmuring, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you sweetheart. It’s over. I’ve got you.”

“Master?” It sniffs and then sees its tear marks on Master’s mostly dry shirt, “Oh no, Master! Your pet is so sorry; it got slut juice on your shirt. Please, Master, please Punish your w— your bad pet?”

Master tenses beneath it and it readies itself to be pushed to the floor; Master has withheld all its punishments so far but it knows it’s just a matter of time before he loses his patience.

But once again as swiftly as the anger comes it fades and Master says, “No. I will never Punish you for crying, Pet. You cry all you need to.”

Maybe Master is a dom that likes its property to cry? Some of its former Master’s guests didn’t care how much pain it was in, only that it cried, or screamed, or begged. Though they all usually Punished it in the end. 

But Master says he will never Punish it for crying.

It may be getting better at picking up on the subtle shifts in Master’s moods but the pet doesn’t think it will ever understand him. 

“Your… your pet is okay now, Master. Unless you would like it to cry more, Master?”

Angry Master is back and then gone, “No. No, Pet, I don’t want you to cry; not if you don’t feel like crying. Do you still want me to wash you?”

It had nearly forgotten its filthy state and it would like nothing more than to remove its former Master’s touch but it can’t tell from Master’s tone what he would prefer, “If it pleases you, Master.”

“Would you rather go to bed?”

It’s pain and tears must have done something for Master, if he is ready for his before bed blowjob but once more Master’s tone is some completely neutral that it can’t tell which is the right answer, “If it pleases you, Master.”

Master sighs. “Dealer’s choice then. Back up on your knees, face down, Pet.”

“Yes, Master,” the pet gets into position but isn’t sure of what to do with its arms. It leaves its hands by its head and elbows at its side and waits for Master to correct it. 

“Very good, Pet.”

It relaxes with the praise and feels the ever present call of subspace flow through it, “Thank you, Master.”

It feels Master’s fingers at its fuck hole, his touch firm but gentle, and then Master uses a warm, wet, cloth to wash away the stain of its former Master’s cum. 

Master dries its hole once he’s done washing it and then his fingers are back with what feels like a thick lubricant of some sort and it makes sense now, that Master would want to fuck its ass instead of its mouth, to paint its insides with his own cum and fully take ownership of his s— pet. The pet is grateful that Master doesn’t want to fuck it dry. 

Master pushes the lube into its cum hole and then uses a couple fingers to spread it around its rim and the hurt is a good hurt, an ache that causes its forgotten cock to stiffen and it moans quietly. Master hasn’t told it to keep still and so it hesitantly pushes back on Master’s fingers and squeezes its hole around his fingers, pleasure/pain radiating out from where Master is inside it.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Master,” it purrs; Master sounds pleased and so the pet fucks itself a little harder on Master’s fingers, opening its cum hole as it presses back and then squeezing as it pulls away, “Oh. Oh, Master.”

It feels so good, it speeds up as Master’s fingers twist inside it and it moans with each thrust, “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

Master climbs on the bed next to it, his fingers continuing to meet the pet stroke for stroke, “Oh, yes, Master. Unh, mmmm. Please— Oh! Please, Master? Oh, unf! Please?”

“Like that, my good boy? Like my fingers inside you? Like me filling you up?”

“Oh, oh Master,” the praise making it feel as good as, if not better than, Master’s fingers, “Yes, Master. So good, Master. Please, please fuck your pet,” and it’s proud, so proud, it remembered to call itself pet and not slut.

Master bites the join between its shoulder and neck, hard but not breaking skin and it shudders as instead of the pain/pleasure/pain it had readied itself for, it’s just pleasure/pleasure/pleasure, “Oh, please? Please Master? Please fuck your pet? Please, mark it inside and out. It wants only your touch, Master.”

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. Let me give you what you need, trust me to take care of you.”

Master wraps his free hand around the pet’s cock and starts stroking it, “Oh, Master!”

Master kisses the place where he bit it, his beard brushing against its skin and the pet suddenly, painfully needs to cum, “Please, Master, may your pet cum?”

And it prays for permission because it doesn’t think it can stop itself and it doesn’t want to disappoint Master and not because of any fear of Punishment but

solely because it wants to make Master happy. 

“Yes, sweetheart, come. Come for me.”

It spills over Master’s hand and clenches around his fingers, “Oh, Master!”

Every sensation becomes too much/not enough/perfect. The pet’s entire body is awash with pleasure and it’s so beautiful it starts to cry.

Master pulls out his fingers and wipes his hand on the towel, then pulls the pet onto its side until they’re spooning. Master pets its hair with one hand and links the fingers of his other hand with the pet’s. He kisses the join of its neck again and the pet hums with pleasure. Nothing in its life has ever felt this good. 

Soon, the buzzing under its skin eases and it floats Up from subspace. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“It was my pleasure, Pet.”

Master cuddles it for a while longer and then asks, “Do you want to come all the way Up, or would you like to go to sleep while you are still a little Down?

“But Master, it is Up?”

Master doesn’t like that and the pet feels a flicker of fear as Master says, “Come here.”

He tugs the pet’s hand and turns it in place until it’s facing him. Master continues to pet its hair but lets go of its hand to tilt its face side to side and up and down. Then he kisses the left side of its forehead.

“Master!” It says, still scandalized that Master would put his mouth on it, much less so gently. Its old Master had never done so, leaving that distasteful task to his guards; not only has its new Master bitten it himself, he keeps kissing it and it doesn’t know how to react. 

Master takes his madness a step further; he tilts its head up with his fingers under its chin, instead of straining to keep its eyes down the pet closes them. Master brushes his thumb across the uninjured side of its lip and then he chastely kisses where his thumb had traced. On it’s slut mouth. It freezes, terrified of making a wrong move. 

Master kisses it’s mouth again and, before it can finish figuring out how Master wants it to react, says the most outrageous thing yet, “I want you to eat a little something.”

It needs to tell Master it had already eaten today; for a brief moment it thinks about what it would be like to be fed by Master before reason takes hold again and it says, “But Master—”

“No. No arguments. It doesn’t have to be much but I don’t want you Dropping when you finally come all the way Up.”

That doesn’t make sense, it is Up, but it dutifully says, “If it pleases you, Master.”

Master reaches over it to the other side of the bed and into the canvas bag; his body is like a warm blanket in winter and the pet cherishes the feeling. Master sits up against the headboard and pulls the pet with him, saying, “Come here,” arranging them so that the pet is half on top of him, one leg in between Master’s. Master unwraps a bar of some sort and breaks off a piece, holding it in front of the pet’s lips.

“But, Master, shouldn’t you eat first?” Pet says, staring down at Master’s chest and resisting the urge to touch its tongue to the food. 

Master sighs and then in an amused tone says, “If it pleases you, Pet,” and pops the piece into his mouth. 

He breaks off another piece and holds it up to the pet’s mouth, “Your turn.”

The pet tentatively licks it and moans as the flavor bursts across its tongue and it takes it a moment to place it. Mostly sweet with just the right touch of bitterness. Chocolate. It’s chocolate. It licks it again and then takes it carefully from Master's fingers with its teeth. It moans in pleasure and closes its eyes as it chews slowly, making it last as long as possible. 

It startles as it feels another piece placed against its lips, “Master?” It asks, opening its eyes in surprise. 

“Eat.”

“If it pleases you, Master?”

“It does. Very much,” the pet moans again as the praise washes over it, “It will make me very happy.”

“Oh, Master,” it says, taking the second bite. It’s almost as good as the first, and Master’s words and the taste of the chocolate conspire to take it back Down again. It fights against the pull, not wanting to risk upsetting Master by asking to go back Down again after already being allowed to spend so much time in subspace. 

The pet gets bolder as Master feeds it, at first darting its tongue out to catch at Master’s fingers and then actively licking them after each bite and as Master makes encouraging noises. It can feel Master’s cock start to press against its hip as proof that it is pleasing its Master. 

Master keeps feeding it bite after bite and the comfort of lying against him and the sweet bites of chocolate have almost overwhelmed it; if Master doesn’t stop feeding it it will go back Down whether it has permission or not, “M...Master? Your pet… it… it can’t take any more. Please?”

“Can you manage two more bites, Pet?”

It nods, it thinks it can handle that, and then remembers itself and says out loud, “Yes, Master.”

With the last two bites the pet is allowed to suck Master’s fingers all the way into its mouth and it uses its tongue to the best of its abilities, showing Master how good it will be for his before bed blowjob. 

“If you're feeling up to it we should get ready for bed,” Master says, his voice dark with need. 

“Oh, yes, Master. Thank you, Master!” It reaches between them for Master’s waistband but Master stops him with a firm grip on its wrist, “Somehow I don’t think you’re helping me get changed.”

The pet’s brow furrows, “Do… Do you not want to use your pet’s mouth Master?”

There’s that shift again, but Master seems more sad than angry this time. 

“No, Pet.” 

“But Master—”

“I said, ‘no’, Pet.”

“If.. if it pleases you, Master.”

Master gets out of bed with a pained groan, leaving a bewildered pet to its own racing thoughts. The pet sits up and watches Master walk over to a duffle bag in the corner. 

“I didn’t pack much by way of pajamas but I think these will fit you well enough,” Master pulls out a pair of grey sweatpants and a white undershirt, “We’ll get you some real clothes in the morning.”

“Master?” 

“Pet?” Master says with a smile in his voice.

“Your pet doesn’t understand, Master.”

“I know you don’t, Pet,” Master sighs, “I’m really hoping that one day you will. Now, put these on.” 

Master sets the clothes on the bed next to the pet.

“But Master, it hasn’t earned them.”

Master doesn’t say anything for a moment, then asks, “What do you think you’ve earned then?”

“Master?” There is no right answer.

“Go on. I promise not to get mad. I say you should wear them, you obviously disagree—”

“Master! Your pet would never—”

“I promise you, you will never be in trouble for disagreeing with me.”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

“It does. Now, I’m not letting this go. What do you think you’ve earned?”

“It… It’s loincloth, Master?”

“After everything you’ve done tonight, you think you should only get what you already had?”

“Master, it hasn’t done anything to earn—”

“You’ve made me very, very happy. More than I will ever be able to tell you.”

“Maybe… another inch, Master?”

“So, you do agree that you deserve more than you had. Now we’re just negotiating.”

“But Master—”

“Shush. Let me finish and then you can ‘but Master’ me all you want. Okay?”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

Master sighs. 

“You're trying very hard not to call yourself anything derogatory,” the pet squirms, Master is being too generous, the pet has failed at that so many times, “You were good for your bath,” the praise makes it light up but then it makes a small sound of distress. It hadn't been good during its bath and it knows it should remind Master of all the bad things it’s done, all the ways it’s made Master angry, but it manages not to interrupt, “You were very good while I bandaged you up, you were so brave while getting that awful plug out, and you came apart beautifully from me afterwards. I would say all that deserves quite a bit don’t you?”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

“No ‘but Master’?”

The pet tries to hold its tongue but it can’t help itself, “But Master, your pet keeps failing you.”

“I told you, I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just want you to try.”

“It… it wants to be good for you, Master. It is trying, it promises.”

“Good. Put them on.”

“Yes, Master,” it says and pulls on the shirt. It’s a little tight in some places and loose in others and doesn’t quite reach its belly button. It’s soft and smells like Master and it doesn’t know how it will bear it when it loses the privilege. It thinks Master may be more devious than it thought; by giving it more he has more to take away, more ways to hurt it in the long run. 

It stands and puts on the sweatpants. They ride low on its hips, the ankles are a little high, and it’s even softer than the shirt; together they make it feel like it did when Master was spooning it and luxuriates in being indulged beyond measure. It sinks down into Offering, wishing it had more than its obedient body to give in return. 

While the pet was distracted putting on Master’s clothing, Master has undressed as well. He’s wearing white briefs, his cock is a firm line pressing up against the fabric and the pet’s mouth waters as it wonders what it will have to do to earn Master’s cock. Master has traded his black turtleneck for a shirt identical to the one the pet is wearing, though it fits him much better. It has to close its eyes at the dissonance of Master being less covered than the pet. 

It feels Master come over and pause next to the pet and then run his fingers through its hair. It pushes up into his hand and hums in pleasure. It holds back a whine as Master stops and steps away and it looks after Master longingly.

Master turns on the light on the far nightstand and then turns off the overhead light and says, “Okay. Teeth, bathroom, and then sleep. Come on.”

It starts to crawl behind Master into the bathroom and Master turns back, upset again, “Stand up, Pet; I told you, I’d prefer you walked.”

Stupid sl— pet. It should have remembered. It stands saying, “Yes, Master.”

So far Master has gotten upset whenever the pet has asked for the punishment it deserves; maybe if it asks for permission first Master won’t be as mad? 

“Master, may it ask for punishment?” 

Master huffs, “Clever. No.”

Master opens a drawer and pulls out a new toothbrush, unwrapping it and handing it to the pet. Then he opens a small black bag and takes out his toothbrush and some toothpaste. 

Pet turns on the water and at first is going to brush with water like normal, but then remembers both how Master doesn’t want to use the pet’s mouth and the feeling of the guard choking its throat and it reaches for the soap. 

Angry Master grabs it by the wrist, pulling its hand back. He then puts a little of the toothpaste on the toothbrush he gave the pet.

“Master?”

“Brush, Pet,” Master says, adding toothpaste to his own brush.

It hums in pleasure at the minty taste and would have kept brushing longer if Master hadn’t said, “That’s enough, Pet,” as he rinsed his toothbrush.

“I’ll use the bathroom down the hall and let you use this one. It’s been a long night; I want you to get to sleep as soon as you can, even if I’m not back yet.”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

As Master predicted he isn’t back by the time the pet leaves the bathroom. The pet takes its place on the floor at the foot of the bed, curling slightly and resting its head on its arms. It doesn’t want to go to sleep, afraid that when it wakes up of all of this will have turned out to be a dream.

It’s half asleep when it feels Master standing over it. Not just Master. Angry Master. It isn’t sure what it did this time but maybe Master is remembering all of the night’s failures and is finally ready to Punish it. Or at least give it a lesser punishment. It curls up tighter, waiting for a blow. 

Instead Master’s hands are gentle and he says, “Up, Pet. In bed with me.”

“Yes, Master.”

Master turns out the light and has them spoon again, one arm is under the pet's pillow, the other over its waist, his hand splayed across the pet’s bare midriff below its belly button and above the top of the sweatpants. His breath is warm against the back of the pet’s neck and Master pulls the pet close, molding its body to Master’s. 

“Goodnight, Pet.”

“Goodnight, Master.”

Just as the pet starts drifting back to sleep it thinks it feels Master squeeze it and day, “Mine.”

It can’t imagine anything better. 

**Author's Note:**

> (Sorry if this is repetitive.) Now that this series is complete I’m adding in my fan space information if you want to follow me anywhere.
> 
> Since I’m not sure which fic in the series is drawing everyone in from, I’m going to c/p my info here.
> 
> It turns out I am terrible at tumblr; it used to be my main fandom space but then my brain broke and I can’t keep up with it anymore. I would still love it if you followed me, I will follow back, I always love making new fandom friends.
> 
> I’ve set up accounts at the links below, I am going to try to keep all three updated.
> 
> Twitter: @ParaprosdokiaCC  
> Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/paraprosdokia  
> Patreon: https://ko-fi.com/paraprosdokia  
> Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/paraprosdokia (am I doing this right?)


End file.
